


Undressed

by GrayceAdamsArchive



Series: Personal Development [3]
Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Disabled Character, Domestic Fluff, Future Siri TM, Future Technology, Heterochromia, Kissing, M/M, Make Outs, Pining, Prosthetics, UST, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 20:57:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12490668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrayceAdamsArchive/pseuds/GrayceAdamsArchive
Summary: "So what do you wear on Sundays?""Not much."





	Undressed

**Author's Note:**

> aka “dakota has to reset the timeline after accidentally showing whole dong and ruining laundry day” another gold star 10/10 summary by papaya 
> 
> thanks to doc and papaya for betaing~

Vinnie wakes up at seven AM on Sunday because his doorbell is ringing, so he slides out of bed with a groan. He tugs on a pair of boxers so he won’t be answering the door naked, and plods out of his bedroom and across the living room to open it.

“Took you quite long—” Cavendish says as Vinnie opens the door yawning and scratching at his stomach, and Cav’s voice is a squeak when he finishes, “enough.”

“G’morning t’you, too,” Vinnie says, yawning again and doing his best to hide it behind his palm as Cavendish just stares at him, hand clutching at the handle of the laundry basket he’s pulling behind him. Vinnie had found out last weekend that Cavendish didn’t have in-unit washing machines like he did, so he’d invited Cavendish over for laundry day so he didn’t have to waste credits at a laundromat. “Didn’t think you’d be here so early.”

“It’s seven,” Cavendish points out, staring at Vinnie’s bare chest and stomach, becoming steadily pinker.

“That’s early on a weekend, Cav,” Vinnie says, reaching up to rub at his left eye. He hopes the itch he’s feeling in it isn’t because the prosthetic is crooked. He’ll have to check before Cavendish notices if it is. “C’mon in, I’ll get breakfast.”

“I brought danishes,” Cavendish says, his attention snapping away from Vinnie’s chest as Vinnie steps back to let him in. It’s the first time Cavendish has been inside, though not the first he’s been to the complex Vinnie lives in.

“Awesome,” Vinnie says with a quick thumbs up. “Be right back.” He ducks into the bathroom before Cavendish can get a look at him with both eyes open and checks his left eye. It’s in place, so probably just a normal early-morning gummy-eye itch. He takes it out and cleans it just in case, then pops it in, brushes his teeth and uses the toilet for good measure before washing his hands to rejoin Cavendish in the main room of his flat.

Cavendish is standing by the door where Vinnie left him a few minutes ago, looking around like he’s determined not to touch anything, but curious about Vinnie’s home environment. It’s not anything special, but it’s got a mostly open floor plan, kitchen divided from the living room by a simple partition taking up the main space, with a small bedroom and bathroom attached. It’s a little messy but not so bad Vinnie feels like he has to clean up to impress Cavendish, it’s just obviously lived in.

“Make yourself at home, you don’t gotta just stand there,” Vinnie says, stifling another yawn as he wanders into the kitchen. He grabs the box of danishes sitting on top of Cavendish’s laundry on the way there, setting the box on the counter to flip it open. There’s a half-dozen inside, so he picks one that’s cherry and icing to shove into his mouth while he goes about making a quick cup of instant coffee.

“You want coffee?” Vinnie asks through a mouthful of pastry, turning to look at Cavendish and finding him still standing by the door. He’s staring at Vinnie and he jumps when he turns to talk to him.

“You’re in your underthings, Dakota,” Cavendish says, like he thinks Vinnie has forgotten.

“Yeah,” Vinnie says, taking the danish out of his mouth to raise his eyebrows as Cavendish can suddenly barely look at him. “It’s Sunday. Coffee?”

Cavendish blusters for a minute before nodding, fingers fidgeting along the edge of his laundry basket again. Vinnie gestures at the stacked machines to the side of him, inviting Cavendish to help himself.

“Go ahead and get started on yours if you want, mine isn’t even gathered yet,” Vinnie says, prepping a second cup of coffee and pouring some cream into it to Cavendish’s tastes. Cavendish starts loading his laundry as Vinnie sets his cup of coffee nearby, popping the last of the danish in his mouth as he does and sucking his fingers clean. Cavendish pauses in loading with a strangled sound, and Vinnie looks up to see Cavendish staring at him. Vinnie pulls his fingers out of his mouth with a wet pop.

“What? They’re good.” Cavendish just opens and closes his mouth a few times before going back to his laundry, ears pink as well now, a little slower in his movements. Vinnie just grabs a second danish and his own coffee, stifling a yawn against the back of his hand as he wanders over to his couch to sit down and put his feet up.

The holo-TV pops up automatically across from him, the episode of The Dr. Zone Files he’d last watched picking up where he’d left off, at the credits.

“Future Siri, go to the next episode,” Vinnie says through his mouthful of danish, clearing his mouth with a quick gulp of warm coffee to repeat himself when the holo just gives him an error reply.

“What are you watching?” Cavendish asks from the kitchen, holding a pair of his 1870s trousers when Vinnie looks over at him.

“Are you able to machine wash those?” Vinnie asks before adding, “Doctor Zone, y’know, that show the Murphy kid likes so much.”

“Why wouldn’t I be able to?” Cavendish asks, tossing the pants in the machine. “And _why_?”

“It’s good,” Vinnie says with a shrug, watching the characters inspired by them run dramatically from trashcandroids in the opening theme.

“It’s an old show about time travel, and you are an _actual_ time traveler, how could this possibly be entertaining at all with all the inaccuracies?” Cavendish says, closing the door to the washer.

“Future Siri, start the washer,” Vinnie says when the apartment’s system fails to recognize Cavendish because he’s not a resident or frequent visitor. “It’s actually pretty accurate. Mahlson took good notes.”

Cavendish gives a disbelieving harrumph from the kitchen, picking out his own pasty and taking the coffee Vinnie made him into hand. Then he just stands there like he’s lost for a minute.

“C’mon, sit and watch with me,” Vinnie says, swallowing the last of his second danish and patting the cushion next to him. Cavendish appears to brace himself before haltingly joining him, perching on the couch like it might burst into flames beneath him.

“Because of the time travel you don’t really gotta watch in order I think,” Vinnie says, finishing off his coffee and leaning past Cavendish to set it on the small table on one side. Cavendish squeaks and nearly spills his coffee on Vinnie’s bare shoulder, and Vinnie pauses to glance up at him after setting his cup down. Cavendish is staring at him and blushing again, enchanting and enthralling to the point that Vinnie finds himself just staring back without retreating out of Cav’s personal space.

Vinnie’s just about to lean in and start kissing him again, regardless of the food and drink in Cavendish’s hands when Cavendish says, “Your, um, your eyes are different colors.” Vinnie blinks and the spell is broken, and he sits back to rub a hand over his left eye.

“Oh, yeah,” Vinnie says, suddenly regretting not wearing his glasses despite how silly it might have looked paired with just his underwear.

“Heterochromia?” Cavendish asks timidly, and Vinnie nods, not really wanting to explain further. He hopes Cavendish didn’t also spot the hair-thin scar through his eyebrow and down the left side of his face, nearly invisible until you got close and were looking for it. “I didn’t know.”

“Doesn’t come up much,” Vinnie says, and leaves it at that, getting up to make himself another cup of coffee and avoid the conversation.

When he comes back Cavendish is watching the holo with a frown on his face.

“So they’re both aliens _and_ time travelers? Isn’t that a bit much?” Cavendish asks as Vinnie sits back down and puts his feet up again, sipping at his coffee as he crosses his feet at the ankles.

They have a light-hearted debate about the quality of The Dr. Zone Files for the next half hour, Cavendish picking at the production quality compared to the future while Vinnie defends the ancient series’ charm. When the washer buzzes, Cavendish steps over Vinnie’s legs to pass him and then heads over to the machine to switch it to the dryer. He has to bend over every few seconds to do so, and Vinnie stops watching Dr. Zone in favor of watching Cavendish instead. He cuts a nice figure outside three-piece-suits too, all long legs in trim trousers and another soft, grey t-shirt that clings to his shoulders and slim hips.

“Dakota, I said you could start—” Cavendish turns around with a huff, presumably since he’s already finished moving his laundry and needs Vinnie to tell the system to dry it.

“Future Siri, run the dryer,” Vinnie says after a second of mutual staring, wondering if Cavendish is going to acknowledge that they both know Cavendish has just caught him staring at the former’s ass. The quiet rumble of the dryer starts and Cavendish is still staring at him, but it’s softened a bit now with nervous flicks of his eyes away and down, like he doesn’t want to let it go but isn’t sure how to bring it up. Vinnie reaches up to rub at the corners of his mouth, trying very hard not to give him a teasing grin. If he hasn’t chastised him for it yet, Cavendish isn’t likely to call him on it, and Vinnie’s enjoying watching Cavendish stumble over evidence that Vinnie clearly finds him attractive.

“Scoundrel,” Cavendish finally mutters, stiffly marching back over to sit down and refusing to look at him the whole time.

“Did you really just call me a _scoundrel_ ?” Vinnie asks because he can’t _not_ , looking at Cavendish in surprise. “You do know you’re not _actually_ from the eighteen hundreds, right?”

“Yes, and of course,” Cavendish says primly, sitting with his back purposefully straight and looking down his nose at Vinnie beside him. “It’s not my fault I have an expansive vocabulary and you fit the descriptor so well.”

“Really,” Vinnie says, smirking when Cavendish nods. “What makes me a scoundrel?” Cavendish stiffens and his blush returns, mustache twitching as he tries to think of something to say.

“You know what,” he finally settles on, and Vinnie tips his head back to laugh.

“Oh, do I?” he asks, and Cavendish nods again, like that settles it, and Vinnie wants to kiss him so badly. He wonders if Cavendish would be okay with that, if he’d even really been okay with the kiss the day before yesterday. Maybe he’s changed his mind since their first kiss last week.

“D’you mind it?” Vinnie asks quietly, and Cavendish twitches in surprise since it’s been a few minutes now. He glances at Vinnie, who’s watching him from where he’s reclined in the other seat, feet up and head lolling onto one shoulder. He’s still in just his underwear since he’s failed to gather or load his own laundry thus far (it’s not even eight yet, usually he’d still be asleep, give him a break), and Cavendish’s eyes flick down over Vinnie’s all-but-naked form.

“No,” he says slowly, cheeks darkening with color when a smile curls at the corners of Vinnie’s mouth.

“Cool,” Vinnie says, letting the arm he has propped on the couch behind Cavendish’s back slide down until it’s draped loosely around his hips, fingers playing with the edge of Cavendish’s t-shirt. He stiffens a little before relaxing into it. Cavendish’s attention seems to return to the show still playing, but while Vinnie’s eyes are on the holo, _his_ attention is entirely on where his middle finger has slipped between the edge of Cavendish’s shirt and the waist of his pants. His skin is soft and warm, a contrast to the rough pad of Vinnie’s finger. Cavendish shivers at the touch and Vinnie’s breath catches.

“Dakota,” Cavendish says, almost a murmur, and then he’s turning to lean over Vinnie, pressed against his side, bracing one hand on the far armrest and lowering his head to hover over Vinnie’s mouth, his hesitance a question.

Vinnie answers by lifting his head to kiss him, wrapping his right arm around Cavendish’s waist and pulling him in tight. Cavendish grunts softly at the squeeze, bracing his hand on Vinnie’s chest instead of the couch. Cavendish groans into Vinnie’s mouth, fingers trembling as he hesitantly pets at Vinnie’s chest. Vinnie gives an appreciative hum, putting his other hand on the back of Cav’s neck to play with the fine hairs there as he deepens the kiss. Cavendish whimpers and squirms a little so Vinnie loosens his grip in case he wants to get away, but Cavendish just presses forward like he’s afraid Vinnie’s going to push him away. He even goes so far as to throw his right leg over Vinnie’s body, all but climbing into his lap as his hand on Vinnie’s chest wraps around his shoulders with the other to hold onto him.

“Wow, okay,” Vinnie gasps when they break apart, hoping Cavendish can’t feel or at least hasn’t noticed the burgeoning erection in Vinnie’s boxers. He hopes they’re buttoned shut; his dick slipping out the part when he’s not even sure how much Cavendish wants from him would be embarrassing at least, and potentially partnership-ruining at worst.

Cavendish just hums in response, kissing him again and making Vinnie’s lip tickle with his mustache. Cavendish seems to get a bit more confident at Vinnie’s obvious enthusiasm for the current goings-on, pressing small, eager kisses to Vinnie’s lower lip and nipping at him experimentally. Vinnie groans and wraps his hand more firmly around the back of Cavendish’s neck, feeling him go a little limp at the grip as Vinnie pushes his tongue into Cav’s mouth. The coffee makes his mouth slightly bitter, with sweetness from the pastries lingering on his tongue, and Vinnie’s grip on his waist probably skirts the edge of bruising as he struggles not to pop to full mast embarrassingly quickly. Cavendish isn’t helping, he moans into it and tangles his fingers in Vinnie’s loose hair, tugging gently. Vinnie arches into the touch and takes his feet off the table to roll to the side a little so he can press against Cavendish. Instinct tells him to push his hips against Cavendish and start frotting, but Vinnie’s pretty sure Cavendish would faint, or worse _leave,_ if Vinnie gets too intense too fast, so instead he holds the lower half of his body back.

Cavendish keeps both arms around Vinnie’s shoulders and they end up sliding until Cavendish is on his back on Vinnie’s couch, legs sprawled to the side at the bend of his knee. Vinnie is leaning over him, weight on one arm braced to the cushions as he holds his traitorous lower half back from pressing into Cavendish. They’re still kissing when Cavendish’s hands start to wander, fingers brushing over Vinnie’s upper back and scratching lightly when Vinnie breaks the kiss to mouth at his throat, indulging selfishly until Cavendish gasps his name and pulls him into another kiss.

Cavendish brings his arms back from around Vinnie’s neck and Vinnie worries he’s had enough and is going to push him away, but instead Cav just starts hesitantly touching Vinnie’s chest again, fingers exploring his skin and body hair, fingers loitering along the outer edge of his areola for a few long moments. Vinnie sucks Cavendish’s lower lip and bites it, and Cavendish’s fingers momentarily lose their hesitance, sliding over the sensitive skin and bringing it to a sudden peak with stimulation.

“Fuck,” Vinnie shudders and breaks the kiss, his voice hoarse. He wants to drop onto Cavendish and rut together until they both come, but while everything about Cavendish is screaming _come hither_ right now, including the stunned, soft, _hungry_ expression on his face, it’s only the third time he’s ever been kissed. Vinnie’s pretty sure he needs a bit more time than that to adjust to the physical intimacy sex requires. If he even wants to have sex with Vinnie in the first place.

“Dakota—” Cavendish says, and his voice is breathy and almost pleading and suddenly Vinnie’s very ready and willing to strip Cav of every potential first he might have.

The buzz of the dryer is loud and startling and Cavendish’s knee narrowly misses Vinnie’s crotch but hits him in the gut instead, knocking the wind out of him.

“Oof,” Vinnie grunts, falling back as Cavendish sits up.

“Dakota, I’m sorry, are you—?” Cavendish asks, voice rough and thready, jumping up a couple octaves. Vinnie laughs breathlessly and waves a hand to reassure him.

“Fine, I’m fine,” he says, wheezing and sucking in a full breath once he can. “You good?” Cavendish nods, though he’s slowly turning the color of a tomato.

“My laundry’s going to wrinkle,” he bursts out when Vinnie opens his mouth to suggest they continue, and Cavendish bolts from the couch like it’s shocked him. Vinnie blinks after him, taking in Cavendish’s awkward gait and high, pinched shoulders.

Vinnie looks away so Cav won’t catch him staring at his ass again, wondering if Cavendish is also nursing a boner as the reason for his off-kilter stride. He glances down at his own at the thought, and then wants to crawl into a hole as he realizes that he’s sprawled back in a way that leaves him almost exposed, boxers tented and a flushed patch of skin visible through the spread open fly.

It’s Vinnie’s turn to blush explosively, sitting up and forward so his crotch is hidden between his stomach and his thighs, silently willing his erection to _go away._

He glances over at Cavendish, who is diligently fishing articles of clothing out of the dryer, folding them, and stacking them in his laundry basket. Vinnie dedicates his attention to Dr. Zone on the holo so he won’t watch Cavendish bend over repeatedly like last time.

By the time Vinnie’s watched an episode and a half and his dick’s finally given up on getting any attention for the moment, Cavendish clears his throat delicately. Vinnie turns to see him standing by the door, one hand on his laundry basket, the other fishing his keys from his pocket.

“I, uhm, had a—a lovely time, doing…doing laundry here,” Cavendish stammers, reaching the end of his sentence and putting one hand over his face with a sigh, clearly silently berating himself for what just came out of his mouth. Vinnie grins and is thankful he’s able to stand up and walk toward Cavendish without potentially scarring him, to clap his shoulder in a friendly way.

“Great having you,” Vinnie says, suppressing a shit-eating grin at the innuendo. “You should come next week. We can watch more Doctor Zone.” Cavendish huffs and rolls his eyes, but his mustache is twitching up with the smile behind it.

“I’d like that,” he says, almost shy, and Vinnie tries not to look too knocked off his feet by the hopeful, wry, _flirtatious_ look Cavendish has on his face.

“Yeah,” Vinnie says dumbly, staring at Cavendish and scrambling for something to say other than _stay longer_.

“Pick you up tomorrow?” Cavendish says, and Vinnie just stares at him, still too busy trying to regain his scattered wits. “For work.”

Vinnie nods and finally manages to rasp out, “Try not to smash through the fence again, I’m still paying for that y’know.”

“It was one time!” Cavendish says exasperatedly, rolling his eyes, and the spell is broken, but Vinnie is still feeling like he wants to drag Cavendish into his bed whether sex is on the table or not.

His sheets are depressingly cold and empty when he crawls back into them after Cavendish leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are love, comments are life
> 
> lmk if we missed any mistakes or [brackets!]


End file.
